THE CHERRY ORCHARD. To 10 November.
Mold.
THE CHERRY ORCHARD
by Anton Chekhov in a new version by Mike Poulton.
Clwyd Theatr Cymru (Anthony Hopkins Theatre) To 10 November 2007.
Mon-Sat 7.30pm Mat Sat 2.30pm
Post-show discussion 8 Nov.
Runs 2hr 35min One interval.
TICKETS: 0845 330 3565.
www.clwyd-theatr-cymru.co.uk
Review: Timothy Ramsden 3 November.
Reaching realities beneath the surface.
Orchard - what orchard? Terry Hands’ spare, yet unsparing, revival minimises surface realism. The creamy environment looks impressive, but there are cracks and bare floorboards in Johan Engels’ setting. After the first act, a screen rises to reveal the Russian countryside as more of the same, an endless, monotonous wasteland scorched by Hands’ own lighting.
Played frontally, it’s a production that places Chekhov’s final, 1903 play firmly in 20th-century theatre. When daylight’s said to be fading, the stage changes from bright to dark with the speed of Godot’s moon rising. The ‘”breaking string” is a long, sinister sound that might (just) be from distant mine-workings, but could no way be a bird. The mine reference points up that industry has encroached upon this part of Russia.
Characters come into individual, and far from dreamily elegant, prominence. Lopakhin recalls Ranevskaya’s kindness from his childhood, but she’s also a “slut” in Mike Poulton’s version, and in her daughter Anya’s hearing. The production doesn’t romanticise the younger woman, though it shows her at the end of three acts, often combined with old Firs (John Cording, excellent in doddering deafness and certainty about a lost world); past and potential future closely linked.
There’s much rich, unforgiving detail. Carol Royle’s elegant, self-obsessed Ranevskaya exhorts the audience when justifying her past. Yet, for all her talk of her cherry orchard, she’s ready to return to a worthless lover in Paris, repeatedly producing his letters from her pocket as an alcoholic might a secret drink.
There’s unkindness in Simon Armstrong’s Gayev, outright cruelty in Alex Parry’s Yasha (Poulton makes clear his seduction of Dunyasha) and crude triumphalism in Julian Lewis Jones’ bear-like Lopakhin.
No Varya has tried as hard as Maria Pride’s to elicit an offer of marriage from this bear. Her eyes travel towards him as she makes clear she’s no purposeful future, her face looks up to his for an answer his awkwardness prevents him giving.
This sharp production justifies its final, blurred evocation of the estate’s past glory-days. And it shows once more Mold responding to the major world repertoire with originality and spirit.
Lopakhin: Julian Lewis Jones.
Dunyasha: Michelle Luther.
Yepikhodov: Johnson Willis.
Firs: John Cording.
Anya: Caryl Morgan.
Ranevskaya: Carol Royle.
Varya: Maria Pride.
Leonid Gayev: Simon Armstrong.
Charlotta: Joanna Hole.
Simeonov-Pishchik: Robert Blythe.
Yasha: Alex Parry.
Pyotr Trofimov: Thomas Padden.
Passer-by: Robert J Page.
Director/Lighting: Terry Hands.
Designer: Johan Engels.
Sound: Matthew Williams.
Composer: Colin Towns.
Choreography: Rachel Catherall.
2007-11-04 13:15:34